


We Are The Ghosts That Hide In The Night.

by emocezi



Series: An Expendable Loser [2]
Category: The Expendables (Movies), The Losers (2010), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Does that even count?, Everyone has a potty mouth, Gen, M/M, violence against women....but it's Aisha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:28:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emocezi/pseuds/emocezi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They see it on the news, a passing clip about some American soldiers in Bolivia and the deaths of twenty five children involved in the assassination of a warlord.  But it never occurs to any of them that it might be him.</p><p>When the five star General comes to the door with an American flag and a pair of dog tags, Gunnar Jensen nearly puts his fist through the man’s face and ends up punching a hole clear through the wall instead before he takes the tags and falls to his knees.  </p><p>The General makes a hasty retreat after that and Gunnar starts screaming.  Wordless sounds of rage and pain, because his son, his only son, is dead.  He curls his fingers around the dogtags until Jensen, Jacob K is imprinted into his flesh.  </p><p>Yin stands next to him, curling his hands into fists and making an internal list of everyone who will die from this.  They can’t bring Jake back, but they can make the bureaucratic assholes who sit in the Pentagon pay for what they’ve done.</p><p>Jake was his son too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are The Ghosts That Hide In The Night.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pprfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/gifts), [Olorisstra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olorisstra/gifts).



> So, you may notice the hints of Gunnar/Yin tossed in throughout the story. This is because I ship them. It started in the first movie when I thought about how fucked up their relationship is, and then in the second movie I realized that it was just a bad point in their lives and that most of the time they're actually good together.
> 
> The fic takes place after the first Expendables movie and during The Losers. I've mixed the movie and comic versions of The Losers to give the story a more bad ass authentic feel.
> 
> I want to send out a HUGE thank you to kyuubi_paw for holding my hand and putting up with my screeching about how much I love The Expendables and how Jensen is totally Gunnar's son and Gunnar an Yin are totally boning.
> 
> Another thanks to Olorisstra for poking me with sticks, writing the Pooch's POV, and rewatching The Expendables with me about a dozen times. And for agreeing with me on the Gunnar/Yin front...actually, I think she may have been the one who came up with the pairing first.
> 
> And finally, I want to thank pprfaith for telling me 'It needs more Roque.' You were right darling. Then again, everything needs more Roque.
> 
> To everyone asking me about a sequel: There's a sequel in the works. I'm just having a hard time figuring out which elements of the comic I want mixed in with the movie, and how I want the rest of this to play out now that The Losers have a slightly more experienced team of mercenaries working with them.
> 
> It's a long and arduous process and considering this one took me the better part to a year and a half to write, the sequel won't be out for a while.

They see it on the news, a passing clip about some American soldiers in Bolivia and the deaths of twenty five children involved in the assassination of a warlord. But it never occurs to any of them that it might be him.

When the five star General comes to the door with an American flag and a pair of dog tags, Gunnar Jensen nearly puts his fist through the man’s face and ends up punching a hole clear through the wall instead before he takes the tags and falls to his knees. 

The General makes a hasty retreat after that and Gunnar starts screaming. Wordless sounds of rage and pain, because his son, his only son, is dead. He curls his fingers around the dogtags until Jensen, Jacob K is imprinted into his flesh. 

Yin stands next to him, curling his hands into fists and making an internal list of everyone who will die from this. They can’t bring Jake back, but they can make the bureaucratic assholes who sit in the Pentagon pay for what they’ve done.

Jake was his son too.

XxX XxX

It takes two weeks for Gunnar to start falling apart. He can’t internalize this. Yin wants to hate him for it, wants to hate him for acting like he was the only one who lost Jake, but he can’t. He can’t blame Gunnar, even when the man throws knives and empty bottles of Jack Daniels at him and screams at him to leave the room.

He doesn’t show his loss the same way Gunnar does. He was taught from an early age that emotion is nothing, and even now, it’s hard to express himself. That he feels just as dead inside as Gunnar, that he feels like his entire world has been shattered and he’s more lost without Jake’s bright smile then he’s ever been.

Instead he goes. And prays that Gunnar won’t kill himself before this is over. 

XxX XxX

It isn’t until after Vilena that a man Tool knows comes to the shop with a folder full of pictures and a great need for money. At first they’re ready to turn him away, sick and tired of the vultures and cockroaches that keep finding Gunnar and Yin, claiming to have seen their son, claiming he’s still alive.

Gunnar isn’t better, but he’s slowly healing from Jake’s death as well as the shot to the chest Barney dealt him, just above the heart. He doesn’t have to tell anyone that he wishes Barney had just killed him.

The greasy little Brazilian makes a clicking noise and rubs his fingers together while Toll Road tries to reason with him in Spanish. They aren’t about to pay him for false information, in fact, he’ll be lucky if he leaves here with his life for taunting Gunnar with fake hope.

Barney sighs and grabs the folder, ripping it open and spreading the pictures across the table. Gunnar slams a hand down, gripping the picture that’s nearest to him until the paper is nearly tearing in his huge fist.

His son stares back at him, eyes tired and clouded and Gunnar can’t help himself. He starts to weep, loud noisy sobs that speak of the sort of relief that they very rarely see in this job. No one says anything, instead they start to plan.

XxX XxX

Getting into Bolivia is so easy it’s laughable.

They park the plane in a private hangar just outside the capital city of La Paz, paid for by Tool as a good luck sort of present. Three vehicles, two jeeps and a battered old Ford sit just outside the hangar. Gunnar and Yin take the truck, leaving Barney, Christmas, Toll and Caesar to squabble over who gets to drive the two remaining vehicles.

It’s a two hour drive to the small dusty town of San Javier, where Jake was last spotted, working days in a doll factory and nights in a bar, and no one wants to be privy to the conversation Yin and Gunnar are no doubt having right now. 

XxX XxX

“Look, I’m sorry.”

“I know. He is my son too.”

“He’s more your son then mine, Yin. He just looks like me, you raised him.”

“I forgive you.”

“Fine.”

“It is fine. Keep your eyes on the road Gunnar.”

XxX XxX

By the time they get into San Jose the sun is setting and no one looks twice at the rough and tumble men in the battered vehicles when they roll into town. A blessing in their favor Barney supposes, that no one pays the sort of attention to faces out here that they do back in America.

Gunnar and Yin are still talking, and since no one wants to interrupt them, especially when Gunnar gets that sort of a look on his face and rubs a big hand over Yin’s head. Barney blows out a breath and turns away just as Gunnar tugs Yin over to him.

“Okay boys, this isn’t a big place. Someone’s gotta have seen our boy. Let’s find the kid and bring him home.” Toll and Caesar fist bump and head off with one of the pictures that had brought them here. Lee starts off down the street, and Barney turns and heads in the opposite direction.

They’ll find Jake. He can feel it in his bones.

XxX XxX

In the end, it’s Toll Road and Hale Caesar who find Jake first. 

He’s wiping down tables in a ramshackle hut that can barely be called a bar. But there’s shitty beer in dirty glasses and tired looking men and women drinking it, so who are they to judge the local establishments.

Toll grabs a taco from a stand a block down and eats while Caesar puts in the call to let everyone know the kids been found. He looks tired and beaten down, but he’s alive and right now that’s all that matters.

XxX XxX

It takes ten minutes for everyone to converge at the taco stand. Gunnar doesn’t even wait to hear Barney make up some sort of stupid plan on how to greet his son. He just stomps into the hut and lifts Jake off the floor in a massive bear hug.

“Dad? _Dad_.” 

“It’s okay. I’m here now. I gotcha.” Gunnar murmurs, cupping the back of his son’s skull protectively. Remembering when Jake was still small enough to lift with one hand, and all the promises he made that little boy, promises to protect him from everything the world could throw at him.

Gunnar sets Jake back on his feet and pulls away a little, squeezing Jake’s shoulders and taking in the shadows under his eyes and the the hollows in his cheeks. He pulls Jake back in for another hug, remembering how it felt to think he’d never know what it was to hold his son again. It’s a blessing, an answered prayer, a miracle.

Jake wipes at his eyes with the backs of his hands, ignoring the stares of the bar patrons. There’s two other people on shift tonight, and with the sudden appearance of his father, he knows he can walk away.

So he does. Throws his towel on the bar, grabs his share of pay from the ‘tip’ jar, and leaves, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.

Maybe Barney can talk some sense into Clay. Maybe this horror story might have a happy ending then the one he’d assumed would play out. The one where they all died in the backwoods of Bolivia and no one cared because they were traitors and baby killers, or whatever the media had labelled them this week.

XxX XxX

Yin doesn’t know what he was waiting for, but the moment he sees Jake walk out of the building he’s moving. Pulling Jake into a hug and kissing his face, so fucking glad to see his son. He can’t explain it, can’t find the words to express himself, but Gunnar hugs them both and when Yin pulls back to smile brightly at Jake, he catches Barney wiping at his eyes.

“I missed you, Jake.”

“I missed you too, ba.” Jake says, laughing when he sees the rest of them. Like he can’t believe they came for him. “The gang’s all here.”

“It’s good to see you kid.” Barney says, pulling Jake into a one armed hug and patting his back. 

“I missed your pretty face.” Lee says with a smirk and a quick hug.

“Shit’s been boring with you gone.” Caesar grins, patting Jake on the back and pushing him at Toll who smiles toothily and squeezes him tightly. Jake hisses and punches Toll in the ribs, affectionately.

“Grabbed an eyesore of a t-shirt on the way over.” Toll says when he lets Jake go. “I saw it and thought of you.”

“The rest of your team around here somewhere?” Barney asks before the situation can escalate to manly tears in the middle of the street. Normally he’s not one for crying, but he’s known this kid since he was small enough to fit his entire body in one of Barney’s combat boots, and it’s a relief for everyone to know he’s safe.

“Yeah. Roque and the Clay are probably off at the cock fights, trying to score the big one. Cougs is doing a double at the doll factory, and Pooch is back at the house.” Jensen says and rattles off the address.

“Well, let’s go bring em home.” Caesar says, thumping his fist against Jake’s back. “I picked up the fifth season of Buffy but I don’t have anyone to watch it with, and you know I hate watching that show alone.”

“Yeah man, I get it. Spike is a scary dude.” Jake laughs, dodging the playful slap to the back of the head.

He knows his problems haven't automatically solved themselves. He's still up shit creek, but he’s gone from being up over his head to being waist deep. It’s a manageable level. 

He feels lighter, less bogged down and, for the first time since what feels like a whole lifetime ago, he doesn't feel like he's drowning. Everything is better and, with that, comes relief, crashing through his defenses and making him sway and falter.

He feels his dad’s arm coming around him, his ba being suddenly _there_ on the other side to hold him up and he knows they’re talking to him but Jake's ears have filled up with the buzzing of ten thousand bees. It's like the crash after an adrenaline rush, but this time he's crashing from weeks spent working to keep the team up and moving. Keep them grounded and healthy even though they just want to fall into pieces.

Cougar prays when he thinks Jensen is asleep and Pooch obsesses with his ring like it’s gonna turn into Jolene one day. He knows Roque is trying to make Clay see reason and Clay, being the damn bastard he is, has picked now to go through a midlife crisis.

They’re all rolled up into a nice fucked up package.

He would have left Clay here, should have bailed out with the others and gone back stateside weeks ago. If it wasn't for the fact that Roque will never leave Clay, and the three of them won't leave Roque, they could have been home by now.

He’s seen how bad his dad looks, like someone much older than he should be, how skinny his ba feels. Both Toll and Caesar’s jokes feel forced, like they’re putting pressure on themselves to make him feel better. Lee's relief is a tangible thing and Barney's hastily wiped tears are another layer of guilt. He's made them all suffer because of his team and fuck, he can't deal with the choice of his team and his family. Because his team should be his family.

He shudders once, his head spins and blackness invades his vision. But instead of fighting it, he lets it take over and falls into the blackness.

He can. He's _safe_ now.

XxX XxX

The Pooch does not know how to deal with this kind of home invasion.

Burglars, he can deal with. Thieves, too. Wannabe home invaders of the criminal quality, are a piece of cake. What he doesn't know how to deal with, is the fucking swedish giant who carries a passed out Jensen into the house, and the tiny Asian man who follows him, like a shadow. Then there’s the three white dudes, and a brother who looks like he’s as much at ease here as he would be in a ghetto, a prison ward or a war zone.

The Pooch points out Jensen's room to them and escapes to the kitchen. He texts Cougar first, because Cougar would know if The Pooch called or texted anyone else and The Pooch is not about to get beaten up by that skinny Mexican ass _again_. He gives Roque a call next because he knows better than to try to call Clay, and those two are always together anyway.

Roque doesn't pick up so Pooch leaves a few words on how voicemail. He spends a few private moments worrying over the face that Roque never answered, but considering the fact that the man is out with Clay, drinking and gambling, he tries to put it out of his mind. He isn't sure he wants to know the reason Roque isn't picking up.

So The Pooch regroups, warns his team and grabs himself a beer. He's not hiding, not in his own fucking house, as rickety of a shack as it is. So after he finishes his first beer he grabs a second one and heads back out into the middle of this crisis.

And runs into White Boy Number One, the old one with grey streaks in his black hair and the look of someone who's probably trudged through than one jungle in his life, playing at being Rambo and keeping a knife between his teeth, _just in case_.

The Pooch can easily imagine White Boy Number One with a bad case of '80s hair and that ridiculous headband. He clamps down on the thought and offers his hand instead.

“Hi, I’m Pooch.”

“Barney.” The man offers a lopsided smile and shakes Pooch’s offered hand, he’s got a grip like steel. 

“So...what brings you to our neck of the woods?” Pooch asks, trying to be polite without seeming soft.

“We came for Jake.” Barney says simply and Pooch fights back a wince. “Now, Yin and Gunnar are gonna be in there until their boy wakes up, so why don't we sit down and you can tell me what’s been going on here. I figure there’s a damn good reason for Jake to keep himself cut off from us the way he has." The man tells him, with a friendly manner that The Pooch easily translates as ' _I'm calm, but you lie to me and there'll be hell to pay_ '.

Pooch is very much a team player, and he’s heard Jensen babble on about his family enough to remember that Barney was the guy who signed the paperwork to let Jensen enlist when he was seventeen, because his parents wanted bigger and better things for him then the army.

Pooch sits on the corner of the ratty sofa he and Jensen dragged in from the local dumpster and takes a big swallow of beer. He's not covering Clay's ass on this one, no sir.

XxX XxX

Barney looks at Gunnar, sitting at the head of his son’s bed, Jake’s head is in his lap and Gunnar just watches his son sleep with a look of absolute contentment. Yin is sitting on the side of the bed, one hand curled into the fabric of Jake’s jeans and Barney feels like breaking something all over again.

The moment Franklin Clay had walked into the house smelling like beer and smoke and failure, Barney had punched him square in the face, breaking his nose with a loud crunch and sending him sprawling to the floor. He wishes he’d hit the man more than once, but Clay’s team was loyal to a fault, despite his willingness to sell them all out for a concept as stupid as revenge, and they’d dragged Barney away from Clay before he could do more damage.

"So?" Yin asks, interrupting Barney’s thoughts.

"Some CIA super spook, codename Max, fucked them over when they went in to rescue a group of kids. Last minute kind of action, the kids weren't even supposed to be in there. Wasn't enough space on the chopper for everyone, so they stayed on the ground and watched it get blown out of the sky.” Barney says. “They folded back here and from what Pooch tells me, they’ve been trying to get home but their CO’s been bent on revenge. It was supposed to have been them in that chopper." He sums it up. “I broke Clay’s nose.”

“Good.” Yin says, rising slowly to his feet. Gunnar won’t move for anything in the world, his entire being focussed on his son. But Yin knows Gunnar better then he knows himself, it comes from a life of reading the expressions that cross Gunnar’s face when he can’t find his words.

Gunnar looks up at him, everything laid raw and open on his face and Yin nods. He squeezes Jake’s knee even though he knows Jake’ll be out for a day at the very least. He’s a good sleeper when his brain isn’t working overtime, just like his father.

Barney stays quiet, just nods at Gunnar and follows Yin out of the room. 

XxX XxX

Cougar’s been on edge since he got home to find the house full of strangers and Jensen’s door barred. Pooch said something about Jensen’s father being here, though he has no idea what that has to do with the five other men prowling around the house.

He won’t admit aloud that he’s pleased Clay’s off sulking in the corner, a wet towel pressed to his nose. Not after what the man’s put them through. In fact, Cougar’s thought of punching Clay in the face more than once, but there’s this nasty little rule about NCO’s and disrespect to Commissioned Officers, even if Clay keeps reminding them they aren’t in the army anymore.

Finally Jensen’s door opens, and Cougar straightens up from where he’s been slouched in the kitchen chair he dragged into the hall. It’s not often he meets men who are shorter than him, even if he’s only an inch or two taller than the Asian who steps into the hall He can’t help but wonder if this is how Jensen feels around him, always having to look down.. 

“How is he?” Cougar asks, nodding at Barney who’d introduced himself when Cougar had come back after thirteen hours in the factory.

“Sleeping. My name is Yin.” He holds out a hand and Cougar takes it.

“Carlos Alvarez, can I go in with him?” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Barney says with a shrug. 

“Why?”

“He’s spending time with his father.” Yin says quietly and something about the tone of his voice makes Cougar bite back the questions he wants to ask. Where was Jensen’s father when he was needed? 

“Gunnar went off the rails when he got the news about Bolivia.” Barney shifts his feet, looking awkward, like he doesn’t want to talk about it. “He needs this.” 

“When can I see him?” Cougar asks, feeling more than a little pissy. He’d been looking forward to crawling into bed next to Jensen after his hellish day and sleeping until the alarm clock goes off in eight hours.

“Jake needs his sleep.” Yin says suddenly. “He doesn’t sleep when he worries.”

“He’s been sleeping fine.” Cougar growls, feeling all sorts of defensive against this man. 

“Just because he lays still beside you does not mean he is sleeping.” Yin snaps and Barney lays a hand on his shoulder. 

“Lets just calm down guys. When Jake wakes up we’re getting out of this shit hole. So get some sleep Alvarez.”

“I sleep in Jensen’s room.”

“There is only one bed.” Yin says carefully, eyes narrowing and Cougar smirks.

“It’s not like you have the moral high ground here, Yin.” Barney says with a touch of humor.

“Shut up, Barney. You are the sniper he talks about when he is home.” Cougar nods and Yin sniffs, looking him over. “I don’t like you.” Barney groans and shoves Yin down the hall, away from Cougar.

“Just walk, you can pick on each other when Jake wakes up.”

“I can pick on him now.” Yin says with a sharp smile. 

“Walk, Yang.” Barney sounds amused, moving in the direction of the kitchen. “Didn’t you want to talk to Frank Clay?”

XxX XxX

Clay is sitting in the kitchen, scowling down at the ugly yellow table covered with white flowers. He’s pretty sure it’s left over from the 70’s, when all the furniture was garish and plastic and ugly as hell.

Pooch sits across from him, fiddling with his wedding ring, Roque is probably out drinking after their argument about getting home and Cougar’s being his usual possessive self, camped outside Jensen’s door. And Jensen, to his knowledge, is dead to the world.

His entire squad is broken up into little pieces, this is not what he needs. Not now. Not when he’s finally found them a way home _and_ a solid link to Max.

Clay gets to his feet when Barney Ross, they’ve met years before all this, enters the room, followed closely by an Asian man. He eyes Barney warily, unsure if he’s about to get punched again.

No one’s fully explained to him what Barney Ross and his Expendables are doing here, though Clay is pretty sure the only one who knows anything is Jensen, and he’s not gonna be available for questioning any time soon.

“Sit down Frank. We just wanna talk.” Barney drawls after a tense moment. He pulls out a chair and sinks into it. “Yin, come on, sit down.”

Yin sits, the movement careful and deliberate and Clay thinks he might have to change his opinion on which of these men is more dangerous. Pooch reaches out and nudges Clay with his foot until he sits back down.

“So.” Barney starts, folding his hands in front of him. “Yin has some questions, about Jake and why you had him pretending to be dead.”

“Max-” Clay starts out and stops just as suddenly when Yin slams his hands on the table, already half out of his chair.

“No. You do not put blame on someone else. Not for this.”

“Let the man talk.” Barney says softly, though it’s clear he shares Yin’s feelings on the matter.

“We have the element of surprise.” Clay says slowly. “Max thinks we’re dead.”

“Jake told you he knew someone who could help, am I correct?” Barney asks and Clay nods after a moment's hesitation. "He was talking about us."

“I didn’t want to get anyone else involved. This isn’t something you need to do. It’s private. It’s a personal war against-”

“It is _your_ war.” Yin snarls, cutting Clay off. “It is not their war, it is not _his_ war.” He gestures to Pooch with a quick flick of his wrist. “Do you want to be here, fighting for Max?”

“He killed twenty five kids.” Pooch says quietly. “That’s not just something you forgive and forget. I wanna take him down too.”

“I don’t think you want to take him down for the same reasons Frank does.” Barney says, clapping a hand on Pooch’s shoulder. 

“Like Pooch said, he killed twenty five kids.” Clay grits out, jaw clenched.

“And wounded your pride.” Barney rumbles. “You’re good at what you do, and then some knucklehead company man in a suit comes in and tries to wipe you out to further his plans for world domination.”

“World domination. Right.” Clay snorts.

“It’s what they all want. Company men are all cut from the same cloth. They want to mold the world in the image they see. They want to ‘save’ us from ourselves.” Clay slouches in his chair and glares across the table at Barney. “But this particular company man came after you and your team, and now it’s personal.”

“You trying to tell me you wouldn’t that asshole’s head on a platter if he went after your boys?” Clay sneers and Barney shrugs.

“That’s the difference between you’n me Frank. I know when to ask for help, and I know when to take help I haven’t asked for. And your boys, have all been trying to help, but you’ve got your head so far up your ass on this revenge kick that you can’t even fuckin’ hear them.”

“You took my son.” Yin says quietly after Barney’s finished scolding the Colonel. “You made me think he was dead. I could kill you, just for that.”

“I’m trying to fix this.” Clay says instead of apologizing. “I met a contact tonight, a woman who knows how to get to Max.” Pooch throws his hands up in the air.

“Oh, fucking perfect. You met a woman who can get us to Max? You still haven’t learned your lesson about the type of women who can _help_ you get to things?”

“She’s different.”

“Yeah, is that why you look like you got the shit kicked outta you?”

“Pooch, don’t start with me.”

“You know what, fuck you Clay. Fuck you and your little revenge bullshit. I wanna go home. I wanna fucking be there when Jolene has the baby. I wanna hold my son.” Pooch yells, pushing back from the table hard enough to make his chair topple over with a loud crash and stomps out of the room.

“So, how long before you piss them all off?” Barney asks, raising an eyebrow.

XxX XxX

Roque staggers back to the house sometime in the early morning. He’s got a black eye and a broken nose and smells like he drank the entire bar, but he’s grinning when he falls through the door.

Caesar’s the one who picks him up off the floor and brings him into the kitchen to get an icepack for his face.

“How’s the other guy look?” He asks after he’s set Roque in a chair with a cup of the Starbucks instant coffee he carries with him at all times.

“There were a lot of them.” Roque says. “They all look bad. Who’re you?”

“Hale Caesar, I’m a friend of Jake’s dad. We heard he needed help, heard you all needed help.”

“Bro, I don’t think anyone can help us. Not with that asshole leading us into a battle we can’t fucking win. He’s got us fighting ghosts, ya know? He’s losin’ us.” Roque frowns into his coffee, still drunk enough to be loose lipped. Caesar nods, and sits quietly with Roque until he finishes his coffee.

“Come on, lets get you onto a flat surface. You don’t wanna wake up after a night sleeping on the kitchen table.” Roque starts snickering helplessly and Caesar is pretty sure there’s a story there somewhere. He pushes Roque onto the couch and unlaces his boots, before heading back to the chair he’d been sitting in, keeping watch until someone comes in to take over guard duty.

XxX XxX

Jake wakes up after a solid eighteen hours of sleep. He feels rested, clear headed for the first time in a long time. He feels like he can go out and find Max single handedly. Save the world and get them all home in time for supper.

His head is in someone’s lap, and he knows it isn’t Cougar. He rolls off the bed, grabbing his glasses on the bedside table and slides them on as he crouches down in a defensive position. And stands up just as fast, shock making his entire body feel loose and relaxed and he sits on the corner of the bed so he won’t do something stupid like collapse on the floor.

“Dad? I thought I dreamed you.”

“Nope.” Gunnar grins at his son, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “No imaginary parents here. I’m corporeal, or I was the last time I checked.”

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Jake stops, looks fucking wrecked and stares down at his feet, wiggling his toes and refusing to look at his father. “How did you know I was alive?”

“I didn’t.” Gunnar says simply, the weight of the words are crushing. “One of Tool’s contacts gave me pictures.”

“When?” Jensen has to know this, he _has_ to know how long they thought he was dead for. 

“Two weeks ago.” Gunnar leans over and grabs Jake by the arms, dragging him back across the bed and pressing his face into Jake’s spiky blonde hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to tell you I was alive. I kept trying to send you stuff. Clay broke all my computers. I just-” Jake breaks off and buries his head in his dad’s massive shoulders, taking deep breaths and trying to get himself back under control.

“I know.” Gunnar says simply. “I’m not mad, I don’t blame you. I’m just happy to know you’re alive.”

“I missed you. Both of you. Where’s ba?”

“He’s probably making breakfast. How much weight did you drop? Twenty pounds?”

“Probably. I don’t really have an appetite anymore.”

“It’s okay. Couple good home cooked meals and we’ll get you back into fighting shape.” Gunnar slaps his son on the back lightly. “Come on, everyone’s worried about you.”

“Why?”

“You passed out just after we found you. Been sleeping hard since last night.”

“Oh. Fuck. You carried me in didn’t you? Who saw?”

“Black guy, shaved head. Friendly lookin’.”

“Oh, Pooch. Awesome, he isn’t as much of an asshole as the rest of ‘em. Man, I’m actually hungry right now.”

“Well, lets go eat. Maybe Yin made something edible this time and not that fuckin’ cow tongue he keeps trying to feed you.”

“I like ox tongue.”

“I told him you were more his son then mine.” Gunnar says with a grin and a friendly slap to the shoulder.

XxX XxX

The handle on the door turns and Cougar is on his feet. Jensen comes out, looking better than he has in _weeks_. He’s followed by a blonde giant who has to have a couple inches over Roque.

“Oh hey Cougs, I hope you weren’t sitting out there all night. Not a comfy place to sleep, though I s’pose you’ve slept in worse places.” Cougar grunts, unable to look away from the man who is undoubtedly Jensen’s father. “ Cougs, this is my dad. Dad, this is Cougs.”

“Carlos Alveraz.” Cougar holds out a hand, more than a little uncomfortable.

“This is your sniper?”

“Well he’s not _my_ sniper.” Jake shrugs. “But yeah, he’s my happy feet.” Gunnar throws back his head and laughs. Cougar’s hand vanishes under Gunnar’s and he tries not to wince at the pressure of that grip.

“I like him.”

“Which of course means ba probably hates him.” Jake says with a grin. “You guys always disagree.”

“You see a chinese midget?” Gunnar asks and Cougar nods.

“Yep. Shook my hand and told me he didn’t like me.”

“Called it.” Jensen sing-songs.

“Aw, he’ll come around. You’re a good kid.” Gunnar claps a hand on the back of Cougar’s neck and nearly crumples him to the floor. He hisses out a breath and narrows his eyes at Jensen’s grin.

“He’s probably just mad that Cougs is taller than him.”

“Ants are taller.” Is Gunnar’s mild reply.

“Hey, sleeping beauty wakes. And you didn’t even need a kiss from a prince.” Lee Christmas says as he wanders up to the group in the hall. Cougar shoots a glance at Jensen, unsure if he should be worried.

“Christmas, as you should well know, there are no more princes in this world. Only frogs.”

“I take offence to that.” Lee hooks an arm around Jake’s neck and drags him down to rub his knuckles over Jake’s head. “Good to see you up, now come on. Yin’s about to come make sure you haven’t run off during the night. He’s worse than my mother on Thanksgiving.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary then.” Gunnar grins and heads down the hall, grabbing Lee by the arm and dragging him towards the kitchen.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” Jensen says, looking down at his feet.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having trouble sleeping?”

“You’ve got nightmares. I’ve just can’t sleep.” Cougar makes a noise of frustration and reaches out to grab Jensen’s hand, tangling their fingers together. 

“Next time you can’t sleep. Let me know.”

“Yeah, sure thing Cougs.” Jensen grins, even though they both know he is lying. Cougar sighs and rolls his eyes, shoving Jensen to the direction of the kitchen.

XxX XxX

 

As it turns out, Yin has not made ox tongue for breakfast. Instead he’s collaborated with Pooch and Caesar to make some sort of breakfast quesadilla with eggs and chunks of ham and diced vegetables.

It’s delicious and everyone has seconds. After every last bit has been eaten and the dishes washed and dried and put away, Clay finally speaks.

“I met a woman last night who knows about Max. She said she can help us.” Roque makes an angry sound into his coffee but adds nothing to it when Clay glances at him.

“This woman, she wouldn’t have anything to do with the fire that nearly burned out that cheap ass hotel you’ve been taking girls to for the past week, would she?” Jensen asks, leaning back in his chair. Cougar raises an eyebrow at Clay and Pooch sits forward and steeples his fingers together.

“Yes.” Clay grits out, because if Jensen knows about the hotel fire, then he probably knows about the fight. Jensen doesn’t like being lied to when he already has all the information he needs. “But that isn’t the point.”

“I think that is the point Clay.” Roque drawls in a voice that manages to sound both bitter and mildly pleasant at the same time. “Don’t you remember Amber?”

“Amber wasn’t the problem. Amber’s husband was the problem.”

“Amber’s husband wasn’t the one who shot you.” Pooch adds and Clay glares.

“Only in the leg.”

“What about Emma?” Jensen asks and Clay huffs out a sigh, like he can’t believe they’re doing this in front of company.

“Emma doesn’t count. I didn’t sleep with Emma.”

“That’s because she put a bomb in your car.” Roque says, spreading his hands wide to indicate his disbelief.

“She put a bomb in your car?” Lee asks, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow.

“It took some of the romance out of the relationship.” Clay says with a shrug, trying to play off his bad former relationships as quirks. “She was volatile.”

“That’s not volatile, bro.” Caesar speaks up from where he’s leaning against the counter, sipping a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice from the bag of oranges he’d picked up from the market a few hours earlier. “That’s straight up crazy.”

“We’re not getting killed ‘cause of your hard-on for some girl.” Roque says softly, watching Clay with an unreadable expression.

“She can help. She knows where Max is.”

“Does she?” Toll asks. “Where’s she getting her information from? You sure she isn’t playing both sides?” 

“I didn’t ask where she was getting her intel from. And I trust her, she wants to get Max as badly as we do.”

“You mean as badly as you do.” Barney interjects from his place at the head of the table and Clay falls into furious silence, unable to believe that his team would question him, that they think he doesn’t have their safety as his number one priority. That they think he’s so caught up in revenge that he’s willing to let everything fall to the wayside.

Finally Roque sighs, rubbing his hands across his face and pushing himself to his feet. He’s always been the one Clay can count on, and he’s hoping this time is no different.

“Fine. We’ll meet her..” There’s a long pause and Clay starts to wonder if he shoud have taken Roque a little more seriously before, instead of just writing it off as too many shitty Mexican beers. “But if this girl isn’t who she says she is, she’s dead, and we’re gone. You get me?”

“Yeah Roque, I get you.” Clay says, feeling exhausted suddenly. He’s never thought it would come to this, and it hurts to see that his men think so little of him in the face of all that’s happened. He just wants to make Max pay for what he did to them, and he’d assumed they all wanted the same thing.

XxX XxX

The Losers go into the cemetery to meet with Clay’s contact, and the Expendables set their own plan in motion. Lee tails the Losers to the cemetery and the rest of the Expendables head back to La Paz to get the plane ready. She’s an old bird, and she needs to be coaxed and pampered before she’s willing gets off the ground.

Clay’s contact turns out to be a woman named Aisha. She’s young but competent, in a brutal, terrifying sort of way. There’s no love lost between her and these men, and she makes it clear from the first moment that she needs them to do the job she can’t.

Jensen isn’t entirely sure why she can’t get to Max herself, what with the list of credentials he sees written up under all the _Kill On Sight, Kill On Sight, Kill On Sight_ orders he finds in every Agency database with a file in her name.

He doesn’t ask though, he figures Max already knows her face, or she would have infiltrated his organization already and come out, unscathed and carrying Max’s head on a silver platter.

Clay introduces everyone and grits his teeth when she laughs at their names, high and musical. Roque watches her like she’s something he scraped off the bottom of his boot in the middle of a war zone. Something worse than shit.

She talks about Max, passing around the folder she’d brought with her, watching them all closely for signs of something. Weakness maybe. She doesn’t notice that Jensen watches her back, eyes shadowed behind the sun that glints off his glasses.

“Do we really want to do this?” Roque asks, cocking his head and watching Clay. They’ve got other options now, what with Barney Ross and his team of extreme vigilante mercenaries. But Clay is as stubborn as they come, and he isn’t about to accept charity from anyone, even if it means getting to Max sooner and getting home safer. “We wanna start a war with the CIA?”

“They started it.” Cougar says bluntly, and shrugs when everyone looks at him. There’s no way he agrees with Clay’s plan anymore then Roque does, which means he probably has an ulterior motive. And that’s good enough for Roque.

It turns out to be good enough for the rest of them too, and they listen to Aisha’s blueprints on how to get them back stateside. It’s a little more subtle than anything they could have come up with, but that doesn’t mean they have to give her any credit. She’s a double-cross waiting to happen, they all know it.

Even Clay wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for her particular brand of crazy. At least Roque hopes not. But then again, he’s seen better men do stupider things in the name of a woman.

She’s already arranged for their transport to the airport in coffins, already paid the airfare and made sure customs won’t be looking too closely. It’s only when they get to the airport that her plan falls apart.

XxX XxX

 

Gunnar stands outside the hangar when the flatbed arrives with five coffins on the back of it. Lee climbs out of the cab, adjusting his cap low over his eyes and popping the gum he’d no doubt been chewing obnoxiously the entire way over.

The woman who gets out of the passenger door looks pissed. Perfect.

“Where d’ya want these, love?” Lee asks, his accent thickened until he sounds more like a country bumpkin. 

“I’ll take ‘em.” Gunnar smiles, slow and easy. Playing big, dumb and friendly. It’s now most people see him before they realize he has a brain and a gun and he knows how to wield both with deadly accuracy.

“Just get them on the plane.” Aisha hisses out, wondering how in the hell she managed to get such a chatty incompetent driver on the two hour ride over from San Javier.

“Sure thing Miss.” Gunnar says and between him and Lee, it’s quick work to move all five coffins onto the plane. Aisha’s been on her phone the entire time, arguing with someone in hushed Arabic, and she doesn’t notice the coffins being loaded onto the wrong plane until its taxiing out onto the runway.

“What the HELL are you doing? You idiots loaded my corpses on the wrong fucking _plane_.” Aisha snarls and Gunnar turns to give her a blank stare while Lee creeps up behind her, silent as a cat.

“No we didn’t, darling. You just didn’t get the memo about the change in plans.” Lee whispers in her ear and ducks under her fist when she whirls around, face contorted in rage. Rather than argue and squabble like children, Gunnar slams his fist into the back of her neck and watches dispassionately as she goes down like a sack of bricks.

“Well that was anticlimactic.” He says, nudging her with the toe of his boot..

“Shut up and get her tied up before she wakes _up_. I don’t wanna be trapped ten thousand feet off the ground when this bitch comes to.” Lee says, brandishing a coil of rope from his back pocket. “From what I’ve heard, she likes to collect ears.” Gunnar snorts in amusement and pulls a coil of rope from his back pocket while Lee takes a roll of duct tape and a needle full of sedative from his.

“Toll’s gonna love her.”

XxX XxX

Aisha comes to very suddenly, not much time between awake and asleep when you’ve had the sort of upbringing she has. She doesn’t open her eyes, doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t fucking _move_. But she’s awake and aware and she knows that things have gotten very out of hand, because she’s tied, handcuffed _and_ duct taped to a chair.

“Morning.” Jensen calls out as he walks past her, sipping from a paper cup that’s steaming in the chill of the warehouse they’re in. “I know you’re awake, so you can cut the bullshit ‘’I’m still drugged’ act.”.

Aisha opens her eyes and looks around, taking in the warehouse. It’s a decent size, probably not too expensive a place to rent for a day or two. She catalogues the exits, the windows, even the light fixtures, because you never know when you’ll need to shoot out a light to make your escape in the total chaos of a blackout.

“So, were you ever gonna tell me who you were, or were you just gonna let us all die?” Clay asks, crouching down in front of her, and she blinks at him. “Being al-Fadhil’s daughter I mean.”

“What are you talking about?” Aisha asks, coughing delicately when the gag is removed from her mouth. Clay’s close enough for her to lean forward and bite into, and it wouldn’t be the first time she used her mouth as a deadly weapon against some asshole who thinks he’s got the upper hand because she’s tied to a chair.

Clay steps back out of biting range and looks at her like he knows what she was thinking. Men like him are dangerous, because while he looks at her and sees woman, he also sees _weapon_.

“You already know my team, but let me introduce the rest of them.” Clay says with a smile and starts pointing to various men hanging around the warehouse. Two of them she’s already met, though she’d made the mistake of assuming they were regular civilians. ‘Barney Ross, Hale Caesar, Toll Road, Lee Christmas, Yin Yang, and Gunnar Jensen.” Aisha blinks at the last name and Clay grins at her. “Glad you asked, yes, that giant viking is indeed Jensen’s father.”

“What makes you think I care about the idiot’s lineage?” Aisha asks in a bored tone of voice.

“Because Jensen is the whole reason those men are here. And those men are the reason I don’t need you anymore. You’re an explosion waiting to happen and I’m not about to get caught in the blast.” 

“Overdramatic much?” Jensen asks from where he’s sitting at a makeshift desk, tapping steadily away at a laptop. “And stop making this weird little revenge thing against your wanna-be girlfriend my fault. We all told you she was trouble, but you were all ‘Oh Jensen, I loooove her. She won’t kill meeeeee because we are in looooove.” Jensen says in a high falsetto voice. Pooch and Cougar start snickering and even Roque snorts in amusement. Barney’s team just looks on and Clay feels himself start to redden.

“Jensen.” He snaps and the hacker shoots him a look over the top of his glasses.

“Oh, sorry sir. Didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your new friends.” He says, offering Clay a salute that seems more mocking than anything.

"Alright, enough with the games." Barney says, moving to stand beside Clay. Aisha looks up and meets his eyes and has to fight not to show anything. Not to flinch at the lack of emotion in his eyes.

Men like Barney Ross are more dangerous than men like Frank Clay. Because Barney has no illusions that she can be saved. Barney doesn’t see her as anything but a weapon. And he'll have no problems killing her if she poses even the smallest problem.

Aisha looks away first, glancing around the room at the nine men. The only possible way she's gonna get out of this alive is by appealing to Clay's better nature. He's the only one she can manipulate, because he's the only one who looks past her skill set and sees the softness of her breasts and the gentle curve of her hips. 

It's almost ironic, that her entire life she's been fighting to make men look at her like she's an equal. But now that she's sitting here, being scrutinized for her assets instead of her ass, she wishes they saw the shape of her body instead of what she could do with it..

“So what now?” She asks, tilting up her chin in a refusal to show any sort of weakness. Men like this can fucking smell fear.

“Now.” Barney holds out a hand and takes the foot long knife Gunnar passes to him. He taps the flat of it against his palm, watching her. “Now you get to decide if you want to be on the winning side, or if you want to be on the dead side.”

“And you think you’re the winning side?” Aisha asks after a few moments of thought. Barney doesn’t say anything, just watches her.

“Never lost a battle yet.” Toll says and raps his knuckles against Caesar’s.

“And what happens if I say no to joining your little team?” Aisha sneers. “You big tough men are gonna kill a defenceless girl?”

“You are many things.” Lee drawls. “Defenceless is not one of them.” 

“I say we kill her now.” Roque speaks up. “She’s only gonna be trouble in the long run, and if we’re going after Max, we don’t have the time to make sure she doesn’t run.”

“If she runs.” Yin’s voice is like ice. “I will find her. And I will kill her.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Jensen’s voice is bright and loud and Aisha fights back the shudder of fear that works its way up her spine. She’s never felt so out of depth, not since her first kill at the age of eight. The only way to take back control is to agree to their terms, and then prove she can be trusted.

She’ll fight tooth and nail to make them fall under her charms. Nothing is off limits when something as basic as her own vulnerability is on the line. And once they trust her, once they think she’s one of them, fighting for their side, and happy for the trust and affection they show her. She’ll kill them all and spit on their graves.

Death to Max.

Death to Clay.

Death to America.

XxX XxX


End file.
